An hour later, Carola and Robert walk out of a bank on the main street in Gstaad. “Insurance, isn’t that what you call it?” asks Carola.
“I hope this works,” says Robert, cradling a safe deposit key in his hand.
They stand together on the esplanade in front of the Olden Hotel. At midmorning in this seemingly idyllic Swiss village, it’s quiet. Carola has her hands in the pockets of her rabbit jacket and continually turns, looking in every direction.
“Give me the drive or the key,” she says.
“No,” says Robert.
“Give me the gun.”
“No.”
“Don’t be a fucking hero,” she says.
“Hey, somebody’s gotta be.”
“Fine. You leave me out here with nothing. How am I supposed to stay alive?”
“Stick to the plan and everything will be fine.”
“Nobody told me any fucking plan.”
“Look,” says Robert. “There she is.”
A couple is walking down the promenade. The man wears an Arab’s headdress, mirrored sunglasses, and a stringy, shiny black beard. The woman wears a retro, cornflower-blue one-piece ski outfit with a magenta hijab wrapped around her blond hair and draped across her mouth.
When the couple gets about thirty feet from where Robert and Carola stand, the man holds out his palm in the woman’s face. As if she is a dog, she heels. He points down and she settles on her knees.
The man approaches. As he gets closer, Robert can see it’s a disguise. Elastic string holds up the beard. Beneath the synthetic hairs, Robert sees opaque patterns, melted, permanent rivers of seared flesh. “You must be Robert,” the man says with a strong Kentuckian accent. “I’ve had the best time getting acquainted with your spouse, inside and out.”
Robert’s blood boils. “Bring her over here. I want to talk to her and know she’s unharmed.”
“I make the rules.”
“Where’s my bearer bonds, you prick?” asks Carola.
“You must be Yøta. Eugenio told me all about you. He had a soft spot in his heart for you. I offered to carve it out. Pity he had no endurance. Not like Ali. She can go all night.”
“I’m gonna blow your fucking head off!” says Robert, trying and failing to keep his cool.
“Not a good idea. We’ve got four snipers set up and only three targets. Give me the USBs. Both of them.”
“No. Not until I talk to Ali.”
“And I want my fucking money,” Carola adds.
“I’ll say this one more time—you don’t make the rules. We want to make sure it works first. Then you’ll get your money. You could’ve picked up a USB from any drugstore in town.”
“You can’t do that, asshole,” says Carola. “You plug it in. You let it out. No getting it back in the box.”
“Hand it over.”
“No,” Robert says.
“Fine. I call out ‘target and fire,’ and the three of you are dead. I pull it out of your pocket. Walk away.”
“It’s not on me.”
“Really?” Pumpkin asks.
Robert nods. “Ali, are you okay?” he yells.
No response.
“You’re lying,” Pumpkin says.
“Maybe, but is it worth losing the USBs forever? Ali, say something!” Robert squints to see her frightened blue eyes. She blinks, and tears run down her nose.
“Go get it,” Pumpkin says.
“Why won’t she talk?” asks Robert.
“I gagged her.”
“This is fucked. No respect!” yells Carola. “Deal is off.” She grabs Robert by the shoulder and tries to lead him away.
Robert resists. His gaze is set thirty feet away. “What’s wrong with her? What did you do to Ali?”
“She loved every second of it,” says Pumpkin. “Hand over the drives. I won’t ask again.”
In the blink of an eye, Carola’s hand is in Robert’s pocket. She grabs the USB and sprints away.
Robert reaches out, pulls in Pumpkin by the shoulder, and holds the gun to his head. “Run, Ali!” he yells as loudly as he possibly can. She stays on her knees, unmoving.
Pumpkin yells, “Target! Fire!”
Robert spins around and several bullets hit Pumpkin in the chest, leaving him gasping for air. The two fall in the snow.
More rounds ricochet in the snow at Carola’s feet as she runs away.
The magenta hijab explodes in red.
Robert can’t breathe. He’s empty, aching, thoughtless. He crawls toward Ali.
The town is filled with screams and sirens.
Robert pulls her lifeless body to him, peeling away the bloody hijab, rubbing the red from her face, and revealing a gagged woman who is not Ali.
Pumpkin is on his feet and limping off toward a waiting black SUV. How? He must be wearing a Kevlar vest, Robert thinks. The woman was not so lucky. Robert drops her corpse and runs in the direction of Carola.